YOURS IS THE light that breaks forth from the dark, and the good that sprouts from the cleft heart of strife. Yours is the house that opens upon the world, and the love that calls to the battlefield. Yours is the gift that still is a gain when everything is a loss, and the life that flows through the caverns of death. Yours is the heaven that lies in the common dust, and you are there for me, you are there for all.
LITTLE SONGS and little things come to my mind this morning. I seem to be floating on a stream in a boat, passing by the world on both banks. Every little scene gives a sigh and says, 'I go.' World's pleasure and pain, like brother and sister, lift their pathetic eyes upon my face from afar. Homely love peeps from her cottage corner to give me her passing glance. With eager eyes I gaze from my heart's window on to the heart of the world. And feel that with all its good and bad it is lovable.